Iniciación
by Midori no Kaori
Summary: A little insight of the start, the beginning of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Telling a little about him when he was alive and the moment of his end. A oneshot for now, but I'm considering conitnuing it, still thinking Crappy title as always, may change :P


**This wa sa little something that I just randomly started writing on my phone, and mostly inspired my something personal, so I thought I'd relate it to may favourite espada! A tad bit dark, I guess but I hope its ok!**

 **Disclaimer: Grimmjow is Tite Kubo's, otherwise he would've been a second protagonist :P**

It was really suffocating.

Death hung in the air, the stench of Death was there.

It's like that there was no life in everyone or something. Everyone seemed to act with false vigour, forcing out fake laughs and strained smiles.

There was a single thread holding this whole charade together, one thread preventing the tension from spilling over and snapping that already tearing thread.

Why did people who were closer, intimate, seem more closer to death?

You can't help them either, you can only watch them spiral deeper into the depths of despair as death hangs over them like a haze. All you could do was prevent yourself from being dragged down with them, keeping at bay from the darkness, saving yourself.

Guilty?

You couldn't say. Relief. Relief was closer to what you felt. The strings of death that tug at the tapestries of sanity could only unravel your mind until nothing was left.

But what would you have left once everything else was gone? Was sanity that worth protecting that you could abandon all else to keep your head above the water?

Again. You couldn't say. Was that a rhetorical question?

You chuckle to yourself. Maybe you didn't have as tight a grasp on your sanity as much as you thought. It was like oil, ooze, slime.

And it was slipping through your fingers.

Intangible.

But. You refuse to focus on the thought. Everyone around you seem to already resign to the fact of death. The thought ate them from the inside out.

Anger. Like a drop of black ink into the waters of your mind, it seeps and spreads to every corner of your mind.

Why did everyone give up so easily? Why did they not try harder to break the shackles of death? How it binds their sanity? Why did they look like death itself? Looking so defeated? Why did they look they were going to die? Like they _wanted_ to die?

Even though _you_ were the closest to death.

You look around. The bland white walls and the single window to your left. A curtain to your right that creates a private space, blocking the view of the door. Then unmistakably, the stacks of beeping machines with nonsensical numbers on them and the countless tubes that was connected from them to your body under the blanket, surround you.

Your breath is laboured. A transparent mask covering your mouth and nose, also connected with a tube to one of the machines. Your body couldn't move, like it was paralysed. Even your head was like lead against your pillow. Only your eyes behind heavy eyelids had the strength to move.

You see your family to your side. But they were dead to you. Their eyes were filled with despair, and they were directed to you.

Again, you feel an ugly, dark anger well up from the pit of your stomach.

Pity.

Amongst all of the sadness, regret, fear and despair, their pity felt like a stab in your back. An itch in your throat. A clog in the system.

And it made you burn with anger.

You didn't need their pity. They were the ones that have succumbed to death, to their fate. But you haven't. You're still here, still hanging on. And you refuse to lose to this.

To what?

To death.

You will destroy it. Then you will rule it.

Suddenly the beeping on the machines seemed to get louder, faster. The voices around you becoming more shaky, frantic.

Darkness was filling your vision.

Oh.

It was your eyelids closing.

A numbness arises, you try to bat it away. You want the pain.

It made you feel _alive_.

Your consciousness was slipping. But you weren't going to let your sanity slip with it.

You were dying.

Death was knocking hard on your door. It broke though. And it grabs you, pulling you in. You feel yourself sinking deeper into the depths. Death has a sure grip on you now.

But as you mentioned before.

You will _destroy_ it.

"This isn't over".

 **Phew! It was really short but I hope poepled liked it! It was a little different from my usual writing style, kinda...**

 **As of now, it's just a oneshot, but I'm thinking that I might continue and write more about it : 3 it'll probably be kinds AU, but slightly different to the Bleach time line!**

 **What do you think guys, should I continue this? XD**

 **Please R &R :3**

 **Midori**


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